


Where I Belong

by PrehistoricCat



Category: Primeval
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:45:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1389919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrehistoricCat/pseuds/PrehistoricCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" The man had appeared out of nowhere, stumbling almost blindly into the road and into the path of their car." When Molly Jacobs and her father almost run over a mysterious stranger with their car, little do they know how much their lives will change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Papa!” Molly screamed as her father screeched to a halt a moment too late. The man had appeared out of nowhere, stumbling almost blindly into the road and into the path of their car. She leapt out and immediately knelt at the man's side. 

“Did we hit him?” her father called, almost too afraid to get out of the car. Molly nodded as she checked for a sign of a pulse. Thankfully he was just unconscious and she set about doing a quick examination of him to try and determine the extent of his injuries. Until six months ago, Molly had been training to be a nurse, but she'd been summoned back home to tend to her dying mother. She'd passed away not long after, but Molly stayed with her father instead of returning to her studies. He didn't have a clue how to run a household and it would all have fallen apart without her, even if he refused to accept that fact.

“I don't think he's badly hurt,” she said out loud and heard her father breathe a sigh of relief. “But we should take him home and call Doctor Latimer to check him.”

Pulling himself back to his senses, Molly's father got out and came around to the front. “Should we be moving him?”

Molly thought for a moment. “I don't think we hit him hard enough to have done any major damage and I suspect he was already unconscious.” She looked the man up and down and noted two things. His clothing was made from fabric she'd not seen before, it was a thick, heavy quality and brightly coloured, suggesting that he was either rich or well travelled. But that contradicted her second observation. Judging by the smell, he had not seen hot water and soap in a very long time, and his unkempt hair and beard didn't appear to have been trimmed in several months. Her father was wrinkling his nose and keeping a distance, but Molly was intrigued. What was this man's story and how had he managed to get himself into such a state? 

“Help me get him into the back of the car,” she commanded, putting the stranger's arm around her neck and shoulders and using it to lever him up into a sitting position. Her father did the same with his other arm, and between them they half carried, half dragged the unconscious stranger into the back seat of the car. Once he was safely settled, Molly got back into the front seat and her father sat beside her in the driver's seat.

“Will you be okay to drive home?”

“I'll go slowly,” he replied, starting the engine. “But you were right, my dear. I should have waited until either Davies or Jones were free to drive me into town. I'm too old for all of this.”

Molly smiled and patted her father's hand. After what had just happened, she had no doubt that this would be the last time he attempted to drive. It had been almost six weeks since their chauffeur, William Greene – Will to those that knew him – had been called up for duty on the frontline in France. He was the third member of staff they'd lost in as many months, and if reports were correct they would lose many more before the war ended. As they slowly made their way along the road back towards their house, Molly glanced back at the stranger on the back seat. Maybe he was running from the war? He certainly looked of the right age to have received a call up. Perhaps his family had rejected him because he'd refused to go? It would certainly explain his appearance. 

When they reached home, Molly was assisted by the housekeeper, Margaret Atkinson, a formidable woman who had many of the younger staff members quaking in their boots. She recoiled at the smell from the unconscious man but did not question her mistress and simply helped her to put him to rest in the guest room. A maid was dispatched to go and fetch Dr. Latimer and then Molly proceeded to undress and bathe her patient. 

Molly realised she had missed taking care of those in need and wished that she could return to her nursing studies. She had felt it was her calling to tend to those who were sick, but it was not to be. 

“Ma'am? What should I do with his clothes?” Mrs. Atkinson said. She was holding them at arm's length and wrinkling her nose. They were in such a state that Molly was inclined to just order them to be incinerated, but she had no right to decide what to do with someone else's possessions. 

“Check that there is nothing in his pockets and then put the clothes through the laundry,” Molly responded. “When they are dry, have them folded and placed at his bedside. When he awakes, he will be in need of them. In the mean time, I am sure one of the footman can provide him with a shirt to sleep in at least.”

“As you wish, Ma'am.”

The door was closed and Molly sat on the edge of the bed. Now that some of the dirt had been washed from his face, she could see he had a pale skin dotted with freckles. His hair, although still dirty and matted, seemed to be reddish in colour, similar to her own and that reason made her warm to him even more, despite the fact he had not even opened his eyes or spoken. His body was covered in numerous scars in different stages of healing. Clearly, this man's current state of health was not simply down to being knocked over by her father's car. He had been through many hardships to get to this point. 

“Ma'am, I found this in the pocket of his trousers.” The housekeeper had come back into the room and was holding out a leather wallet for Molly. She took it and opened it up. Predictably, it contained money, though she did not recognise it despite it bearing the wording 'Bank of England' on it. There were also some strange items made from a material she had never seen before. It was too hard and shiny to be card and it felt strange as Molly ran her fingers over it. One of the items had a photograph on it, obviously the man in the bed next to her but in better days. He was actually rather handsome, she thought.

“Daniel Quinn. A.R.C. Department of the government of the United Kingdom.” Molly read and then glanced at her patient. “So, you're Mr. Quinn and you work for the government?” That would explain the strange clothing and money, he'd clearly been travelling. Maybe he had picked up some terrible disease abroad and that was why he was ill now. Dr. Latimer would know what to do though.

When Dr. Latimer arrived, Molly had dressed her patient in a long night shirt that Mrs. Atkinson had borrowed from Davies, the second footman, and was sitting at the side of the bed willing him to awaken. She moved aside to allow the doctor to do a full examination whilst her father watched anxiously from the doorway. After some minutes, the doctor declared that he didn't think the man was badly injured and should be himself after a decent night's sleep and some of Mrs. Atkinson's cooking. “You do have some Laudanum in the house I presume?” he said. “When he awakes, he may be grateful of the pain relief.”

Molly nodded. The opium tincture had been administered to her sick mother to relieve her of her pains in the days before her death. 

“Good. I can arrange for him to be transported to the local hospital in the morning for you.”

“No!” Molly protested, looking pleadingly at her father. He raised his eyebrow, wondering why Molly did not want the man to be cared for at the hospital. “It is our fault he is in this state, at least in part. At the very least, he should remain our guest here until he is able to leave on his own two feet.”

The doctor turned to Molly's father. “If you're sure Mr. Jacobs? I can look in on him tomorrow afternoon if you like and we can reassess the situation then.”

“I cannot argue with my daughter's logic,” Mr. Jacobs said. “He will stay here as our guest for the time being.”

As Molly watched her father lead the doctor out of the room, she couldn't help smiling to herself. It felt like a small victory and something felt right about the fact a complete stranger was sleeping in their house. 

 

-o-

 

Danny blinked open his eyes and glanced around him. At first he thought he was back home, but as his eyes adjusted to the dim, early morning light, he realised that he wasn't. The bed was large and felt as soft as a cloud compared to where he'd been sleeping for the last year or so, and the feel of four solid walls around him was a strange, but comforting one.

He sat up and tried to shake away the nausea that swept through his body. How had he got here? The last thing he remembered was being chased by some creature through the forest. He had no idea what it was, he just knew it had very sharp teeth, looked hungry and hadn't taken kindly to Danny trying to steal the carcass it had left unguarded for a brief moment. The anomaly opened right in front of his eyes and Danny took the chance. He always did; figuring that the next place couldn't be any worse than the last. Sometimes he felt like that guy on that TV show he used to watch as a teenager who jumped in and out of different bodies in different points of time. Danny couldn't remember if that guy had ever actually made it home or not, and now he was beginning to wonder if he ever would either. Still, this place did look promising. At least there was evidence of modern civilisation, and more importantly, humans.

He slowly got out of the bed and padded across the room to the window. Pulling aside the heavy drape, he gazed out across what seemed to be a large country estate that stretched as far as the eye could see. 

“Oh, you're awake, Mr. Quinn,” a female voice said from the doorway. He turned to greet a slightly red faced young woman. His initial assessment of her was that she was probably in her early twenties, but with her auburn hair fastened back in a no- nonsense knot and a pair of wire rimmed spectacles that seemed too heavy for her delicate features she seemed older. Her clothing was clearly not that of a woman from his own time. History had been one of his favourite subjects at school, but changing women's fashions was not something he'd dwelt on. At a guess, this was early twentieth century. She reminded him of the women he'd seen in photographs of the suffragettes.

“You should be in bed,” she continued, ushering him back towards the bed. “You were in a pretty bad way yesterday.”

“I'm fine,” Danny said. “Thank you for your hospitality and all that, but once I've found my own clothes I'll be on my way.” His mind was already trying to work out how to get home. If he was right about being in the early twentieth century, he would be able to write a letter and get it to some kind of courier service with instructions to deliver to Connor Temple in 2012. They'd no doubt think him some kind of lunatic, but he would persuade them to at least humour him for the right price. He could picture Connor now, receiving a faded letter from him with details of when and where to find him. If anyone could open an anomaly and come and get him, it would be Connor. 

“It was the very least we could do,” the woman said. “We thought we'd killed you when my father hit you with the car.”

Danny nodded. At least that explained why he felt so rough. Or maybe it was the fact he'd had his first decent night's sleep in months and his body had relaxed, emphasising the injuries he'd sustained over time. He suddenly felt dizzy and must have swayed because the woman was at his side instantly, looking concerned and then practically shoving him towards the bed. Perhaps he should listen to her and get back in. 

“I'll have some breakfast and a pot of tea sent up for you, Mr. Quinn. You should feel much better after some food.”

“That sounds like heaven,” Danny responded. “And it's Danny, please. Mr. Quinn makes me sound like my father.”

He watched her cheeks turn even redder as she swallowed nervously. She was clearly not used to having strange men around and making conversation. “It seems you're at an advantage to me. You seem to know who I am, but I don't know...” 

“My apologies, Mr. Quinn... Danny. I'm Molly. Molly Jacobs.” She moved closer and held out her hand to shake Danny's.

“Molly, eh?” Danny smiled. “I knew a Molly once. Strong and dependable, but she wasn't half as pretty as you are.” Her cheeks were now practically glowing and it amused him. He still had it, even though he'd just spent the best part of the last two years in the company of prehistoric beasts and his psychopath brother. It was the thought of Patrick that made his head hurt and he felt all of the energy drain from him.

“I'll go and chase Mrs. Atkinson for your breakfast,” Molly said, backing away and almost running. 

“My clothes...” Danny began. He should be away from here as soon as possible and looking for a way to get back home. It would not do to drag innocent people into his problems. 

“Mrs. Atkinson put them in the laundry, and discovered that they were in need of some repair,” Molly said. “They'll be returned to you as soon as possible, but in the mean time if you insist on getting dressed, I'm sure we can find a shirt, trousers and boots amongst the spare uniform we keep for the footmen.” 

Danny watched Molly leave and then leaned back in the bed, contemplating his current situation. Molly's clothing seemed too grand to be that of a maid, so he suspected she was possibly the lady of the house, or the daughter given her age. For the moment, he would be safe here and could maybe take a day or two to rest and find his feet again before he moved on. 

Breakfast arrived on a tray carried by a young girl who barely seemed old enough to have left school. “Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” she muttered.

“This is fine, more than fine, thank you.” It was like a feast compared to what he'd grown used to. A pot of tea with a tiny jug of milk was accompanied by a fine china cup and saucer. On the main plate were eggs on toast, with rashers of bacon and sliced mushrooms, and at the side, pieces of bread and butter. His mouth watered at the sight and his stomach growled in anticipation. He was going to enjoy every single mouthful. The maid nodded and scurried away, leaving Danny to his breakfast. Right now, he was so hungry he could've eaten a horse and he dived straight in, practically shoving the food into his mouth. But it wasn't long before his stomach was swollen and bloated and he was full even though he'd barely touched the food. He felt guilty, knowing how precious food was, but when he tried to force himself to eat more he just felt sick. 

He poured himself a cup of tea and took a long mouthful, trying to remember the last time he'd drunk a proper cup of tea. Then his head began to hurt again and he felt odd. Sarah had made the last cup of tea for him on the morning that he had gone through the anomaly with Abby and Connor to go after Helen Cutter. If he'd known then that it would be the last time he'd see her... He blinked, and pushed the tray to one side, needing to close his eyes and rest.

 

-o-

 

Molly had gone to bed that evening feeling extremely concerned about Danny. He'd seemed relatively well when she'd spoken to him in the morning, but when Daisy went to get his breakfast tray she reported that he'd only taken a few mouthfuls and had fallen asleep again. He was still sleeping when she went to enquire if he would like some lunch, and it was only when Doctor Latimer came to check on him in the afternoon that he woke.

After taking Molly to one side, the doctor declared that there wasn't much that could be done for Danny's old injuries, and that all he could prescribe for him was pain relief in the form of the Laudanum that had already been administered and complete bed rest. He again offered to arrange for Danny to be taken to the local hospital but Molly dismissed the idea and said that she was perfectly capable of taking care of him. 

In the evening, she had taken Danny some soup and bread herself and sat with him. She could see that eating was not something he wished to do, so she did not force the issue and tried to engage him in conversation.

“Is there someone I should contact for you? Family? Friends? Your wife? Work colleagues? They must be terribly worried about you by now.”

“I don't have any family, not any more,” Danny said sadly. “And my work colleagues are a little difficult to get hold of. I'll try to contact them myself when I'm strong enough.” 

“As you wish,” Molly smiled. “And what is it you do, Mr. Quinn... Danny? Working for the government at a time like this must be quite demanding.”

“I'm afraid I can't say.”

“Of course, I should have realised. This war is making all of us have to hold our tongues on certain matters. Forgive me for even asking.”

“It's fine,” Danny patted her hand. 

Then she had left to him so that he could rest again. She took his half eaten bowl of soup back down to the kitchen, shaking her head. It was not right for a man of his size to only survive on a few bites of toast in the morning and half a bowl of soup in the evening. No wonder he was weak and tired. 

She had laid in bed, trying to get to sleep, for some hours when there was a knocking at her door. It was pitch dark and clearly still the dead of night, so her fear was that something awful had happened to her father. Pulling a dressing gown around her, she called out for whoever was knocking to enter. It was young Daisy, her single white candle illuminating the room.

“I'm sorry for waking you at this hour Ma'am, but Mr. Davies said I should come fetch you.”

“What is it, Daisy? Is my father alright?”

“It's not your father Miss Jacobs, it's your guest Mr. Quinn. It's like he's been possessed by the devil himself!”

Molly followed Daisy at speed down the corridor towards the guest room. Davies was stood in the doorway looking concerned, and Molly could hear Danny's groans and shouts. She pushed Davies aside and entered the room. In the dim light, she could see that Danny was thrashing around in the bed, heavy beads of sweat covered his face and shoulders and when she put her hand to his forehead he felt like he was on fire.

“He has a fever,” she said to the two servants. “No wonder he wouldn't eat today, he's been sickening for something. Daisy, I need you to get some cold water and a cloth. We have to bring his temperature down.”

Daisy scurried away, leaving Molly with Davies. “What do you need me to do, Ma'am? Should I send for the doctor?”

“He won't thank you for fetching him out at this hour when it's something I can deal with. I was at nursing school for almost a year if you recall.”

“Of course. I'm sorry Ma'am.”

“I may need your help in restraining him though if he gets any worse.” Molly swallowed nervously. She'd encountered many patients who had hallucinations caused by a fever, but never had she seen such violent thrashing. Danny was also beginning to call out, mostly nonsense, but she caught the occasional word, “creatures”, “stay away!” and “anomaly”. He also kept repeating the name “Patrick”. It was almost as if he was acting out some bizarre fight that was going on inside his head. 

Daisy appeared, carrying a bowl with a cloth which she placed on the drawers at the side of the bed. Molly soaked the cloth, wrung it out and placed it over Danny''s forehead. “There, Mr. Quinn. Sorry, you prefer Danny don't you?” she said softly, grasping his hand with her free hand and hoping he would feel comforted by her presence. 

“Don't make me do this!” Danny yelled out, his body going rigid. Molly stood up, afraid at first until she realised that he was still in his feverish state and that his words were not directed at her or either of the servants. “It doesn't have to be like this, Patrick.” Then he let out a blood curdling cry, and Davies ran to the side of the bed, grasping Danny's shoulders. 

“Mr. Davies, it's fine. His cries are of pain and anguish, not anger or malicious intent. He means no harm to any of us, he's just reliving some terrible event in his mind brought on by the fever,” Molly reassured and the young footman backed away. Molly sat back down, edging closer to Danny as she tenderly patted his face with the cold cloth. He seemed to have calmed somewhat, his body now relaxed and at rest so she dismissed Daisy and Davies.

“Are you sure, Ma'am?” Davies asked.

“Quite sure. He's sleeping now. I believe the fever has passed but I'll remain with him for a short while to make sure he won't disturb anyone else again tonight.”

“Then I bid you a goodnight,” Davies nodded and nudged Daisy before both of them left the room and closed the door behind them.

Finally alone with her patient, Molly removed the cloth and touched Danny's face. He was no longer burning up, his skin pale and clammy now. She'd been right earlier when she had thought that there was more to this handsome stranger than a few old wounds. He had clearly experienced something so traumatic he had locked it inside his head so that he could forget about it. He needed help to deal with whatever it was and move on with his life, and since fate had seen fit to throw him quite literally into her path, she decided that she was the one that was meant to help him.


	2. Chapter 2

“ _Don't make me do this!” Danny's finger twitched on the trigger of the small pistol. Inside he was shaking, battling with the fact that the person in front of him in direct line of fire was his own flesh and blood. He was terrified, but refused to show that on the outside. His years of experience in the firearms division of the Metropolitan police force were being called upon and he hoped they would not fail him now._

 

“ _It was always going to come down to this, wasn't it, Danny?” Patrick's lip curled into a sneer. “The moment you stepped back through the gateway to come after me, you knew this would be how it would end.”_

 

“ _You're wrong,” Danny responded. “We can sort this out. You can come back with me and we'll get help for you. You've been through an extremely unique and traumatic experience, but I'm sure...”_

 

“ _Don't give me all of that crap! It's not me that needs help. You're the one that abandoned me for all of those years. I was forced to take matters into my own hands in order to survive, and that's what I'll do now.” Patrick raised his arm, his finger also twitching on the trigger of his gun, aiming directly at Danny's face. “It's you or me, Danny. And I won't let it be me.”_

 

“ _It doesn't have to be like this, Patrick,” Danny said calmly, and then an automatic reflex kicked in, a result of his police firearms training. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Danny heard his own anguished cry as he pulled his trigger and then a single shot echoed around in the silence of the surrounding forest._

 

_There was a moment of doubt; a moment where he thought that he hadn't been quick enough and that the reason for the silence was because he was dead. Then he opened his eyes and glanced down. It was a sight that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. Patrick was dead. His brother, laid in a pool of his own blood. Danny had murdered him._

 

Danny sat bolt upright in bed, his breathing was fast and hard, his heart pounding against his chest wall and he could feel beads of sweat falling down his face and neck. He looked around him in the dim light and for a moment couldn't quite place where he was.

 

“Danny?” a soft, female voice whispered. He felt a tiny hand grip one of his and another wiped his brow. “It's okay, you're safe. It was just a bad dream.”

 

He took a few deep breaths and began to feel himself calming down. He could just about make out the delicate features of Molly Jacobs as she moved closer to him. “I'm sorry, did I wake you?” he said, feeling his face burning with embarrassment. It was bad enough that he had already burdened her with his presence because he was too weak to go anywhere else, but now he was waking her in the middle of the night with his nightmares.

 

“I was already here,” she said quietly. “This is the third night in a row that you've had these dreams. I wanted to make sure that you didn't do yourself any more harm, you get a little... active.”

 

“There's really no need. You shouldn't be putting yourself out like this for me. In the morning, I'll find a way to send word to my colleagues to come and get me and I'll be out of your hair as soon as I can.” Danny fidgeted awkwardly. The sooner he contacted Connor, the better. Molly seemed an intelligent sort, and it would not take her long to work out he didn't belong in this time.

 

“As you wish,” Molly said. “Whatever we can do to assist you... But you're still weak, and the illness you had the other night has not fully passed. It would be unwise of you to leave too soon.” She leaned forward and switched on the small lamp at the side of the bed. Danny blinked as his eyes adjusted, and then he took in the sight of Molly properly. She had let her hair fall loose around her shoulders, making her look considerably younger but her eyes seemed concerned. “Your dreams... perhaps it might help to talk about them? They always said that I'm a good listener.”

 

“I wouldn't know where to start,” Danny sighed.

 

“What about Patrick?”

 

Danny swallowed nervously. Just what had he been saying during these 'active' nightmares? If Molly knew he'd murdered his own brother, she wouldn't be so keen for him to stay, so he supposed he hadn't said too much. “He was my brother,” Danny said without emotion. “And I don't want to talk about him.”

 

“Was? I'm sorry to hear that. The loss of a family member is always difficult.”

 

“You wouldn't even begin to understand.”

 

“Try me,” Molly squeezed his hand. “It's barely six months since my mother passed away. I was called away from my nursing course to tend to her in her last days.”

 

“Molly, I...”

 

She dismissed his response with a wave of her hand. “I've had enough condolences to last me for a lifetime. Sadly, our family are no strangers to grief. My cousin Henry was supposed to be taking over the running of this estate when he married, but he and his fiancé were both lost on board the Titanic. Terrible tragedy, all those people.... My father is struggling to manage on his own, but with no heir...” Molly shook her head and wiped her cheek, blushing at the stray tear that was falling down her face as she spoke. “Listen to me going on about my problems! We're supposed to be talking about yours.”

 

“Like I said, I don't really want to talk about anything at the moment. I'm truly sorry for your family's losses.” There wasn't much else he could say. His eyes felt heavy and he knew sleep would soon overtake him. At least now he did have a better idea of the time he was in. If his memory served him correctly, the Titanic sank in 1912. If he could get a more accurate date and his exact location, then all he had to do was work out how he could leave a note for Connor.

 

“Well, if you change your mind, Danny, then I'll be here.” Molly smiled warmly, feeling her own eyes getting heavy. “Perhaps I should leave you to sleep now. I think that now you've had your nightmare, you'll sleep much better. I'll have breakfast sent up to you as usual, and I'll come and see how you are a little while after.”

 

“Goodnight,” Danny said, watching Molly switch off the lamp and then retreat towards the door. “Molly,” he called out.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank you. Thank you for understanding. This thing with my brother, it's complicated.”

 

“Goodnight, Danny.” The door clicked closed, and Danny allowed his eyelids to droop so that he could finally fall into a restful sleep.

 

-o-

 

Mr. Davies stood in the doorway of Danny's room looking apologetic. In his hands was a folded newspaper that Danny has asked for and a pile of clothing.

 

“I'm afraid Mrs. Atkinson said that she is still making repairs to your clothes, so she suggested that I should find you some trousers and a shirt amongst the old uniform for the male members of staff. I believe you're about the same size as Will, our chauffeur, so his clothes should fit you.” He handed the pile to Danny and looked embarrassed.

 

“I'm sure these'll be fine, thank you,” Danny said. When he thought about it, it was probably best that he didn't wear his own clothes for the time being. He did not want to attract any more attention to himself than he already had. Today he intended to find out where and when he was and compose a letter to Connor. He really couldn't afford to hang around here for too much longer. Molly was already asking awkward questions and he hated evading them.

 

Davies left the room with a respectful nod, and Danny unfolded the newspaper, keen to get the date that he had found himself. The headline on the front made for uncomfortable reading: “Germans gain ground near Ypres by using asphyxiating gases”. Even before he looked at the date in the top corner of the page, Danny had started to piece together all of the bits and pieces he had already learnt. 24th April 1915. He had found himself in England during the first world war, even more reason for him not to hang around any longer than necessary. His knowledge of the era would serve him well enough but he would have to be careful how much he said.

 

He pulled on the trousers and shirt that Davies had brought for him and paused to look in the mirror at the far end of the room. It had been a long time since he'd gazed upon his own reflection and the sight both horrified and fascinated him. He barely recognised himself as the man that had set out that day, full of determination, to chase after Helen Cutter with Connor and Abby. “So that's what a murderer looks like,” he thought, frowning and rubbing the thick stubble on his chin. His hair was extremely unkempt and the dark rings around his eyes made his face look almost skeletal. He had lost a considerable amount of weight during his two years away. It was no wonder Molly seemed so concerned for him and was trying to constantly get him to eat more.

 

Refolding the newspaper and tucking it under his arm, he made his way out into the corridor. He needed to find Molly and ask her where this house was. She seemed quite willing to open up to him about her family last night so getting her to talk about the house shouldn't be a problem. Finding her in this rabbit warren of corridors was a problem though. He opened several doors and found a number of unused rooms before he came across a staircase. He paused for a moment, not sure where to go and then saw young Daisy, the maid that brought him his food every day.

 

“Are you lost, Mr. Quinn?” she enquired.

 

“I was looking for Molly.”

 

“Miss Jacobs will be in the drawing room at this time of the day, she always takes her morning tea in there. I'll show you the way.” Daisy set off down the staircase, and Danny followed. The walls were decorated with large oil paintings in ornate frames. Most were portraits, probably of Molly's ancestors, but some were of landscapes, and a few were of horses and dogs. The rail on the staircase was a highly polished dark wood, and the feel of it on the palm of his hand as he descended was a strange but pleasant sensation after touching nothing but rough bark and hard rock for months.

 

Daisy then turned left at the bottom at the stairs and beckoned for Danny to follow her down the corridor. He wanted to pause and take in all of the features of the house, wondering how long it took the staff to clean it every day. It seemed a lot of house for just Molly and her father, but he supposed it was normal for those with money to show how much they had by the number of rooms they had in their house.

 

After what felt like a marathon trek, they were stood by the door to the drawing room. The sound of a piano being played filtered through, and for a moment Daisy seemed a little confused. She then pushed open the door and was about to announce Danny's arrival to her mistress when he stopped her, placing his finger to his lips to tell her to remain silent.

 

He leaned against the door frame, mesmerised as he watched Molly's delicate but nimble fingers move over the black and white keys of the piano, playing a beautifully haunting piece he vaguely recognised but couldn't name. It took him back many years to a time and place where things were uncomplicated and free. How he longed for those times again.

 

Daisy looked uneasy, so he nodded his permission for her to leave him. Alone, he crept softly into the room and settled himself down on the small loveseat in the centre to listen, not wishing to disturb Molly as she played.

 

The piece came to an end after a few minutes and Molly took a contented breath, pleased with herself. Danny betrayed his presence by clapping.

 

“Danny! How long have you been there? Forgive me for not...”

 

Danny waved his hand and smiled. “Don't apologise. I enjoyed listening. I haven't heard anyone play the piano for years. My mum lost the heart for it after Patrick disappeared...” He stopped. He'd said too much and was afraid Molly would push him to talk about it so he tried to divert the conversation. “How long have you played for?”

 

“I had lessons as a child from the age of seven,” Molly replied, closing the lid over the keyboard and turned on the stool to face Danny. “But I stopped playing a few years ago. Father was going to give it to the church but I couldn't bear the thought of it not being here after the hours of pleasure it had given me. I don't know why I felt the urge to start again today, but I'm glad I did.”

 

“And so am I,” Danny said.

 

“It's good to see you up and about today. You must be feeling a little better?”

 

“I am, and I meant what I said last night. Today I'll write a letter for my colleagues explaining where I am and they can come and get me. I just need the details. I'm embarrassed to say that I haven't a clue where I am!”

 

“That doesn't surprise me. You were very much out of it when we took you in. I suspect you had been ill for some time.”

 

Danny suspected that too. He'd spent the best part of the last two years living purely on his wits and surviving on only a couple of hours sleep a night and tiny morsels of food that he ate when he could. It was purely his determination to get back home that had kept him going initially, and then his need to find Patrick and reel him in helped him in the second year. Once Patrick was dead, there was nothing to keep him motivated any more. If he hadn't stumbled through the anomaly and into the path of Molly's car, he would probably be dead by now. He had a lot to be grateful to her for not just the fact she had nursed him back to health but also that she had given him a reason to find his way back home again. He just had to work out how.

 

Molly was searching in the drawer of a writing desk in the corner of the room. She pulled out a couple of sheets of paper and an envelope and gave them to Danny, along with a pot of ink and a fountain pen. “If you tell your friends that you are a guest of the Jacobs family at Bestwicke Hall, they should have no trouble finding you. If they look for Bestwicke village on the outskirts of...”

 

“They'll know it, thank you.” Danny's heart began to race. He had grown up not far from here, though Bestwicke village had pretty much been swallowed up by the various housing developments as the city suburbs began to spread. Bestwicke Hall was a hotel, he remembered that his friend's mum worked as a cleaner there during the Summer season. It was owned by a national chain, and Danny wondered when the Jacobs family had had to sell the place and what had become of Molly and her father. He vowed that he would look them up when he got back.

 

He began to write his instructions for Connor, detailing where and when he was so that if the technology was available to him he could open an anomaly and come for him. He paused for a moment and almost crossed out Connor's name. What if he sent the letter to his younger self instead? Maybe he could even warn himself about Patrick's disappearance and prevent him from going to that house? He could spare his family so much heartache, and he needn't ever have to get involved with the anomalies at all.

 

Battling with the idea for a few moments, Danny eventually decided that it would be wrong to change his own past. He'd often heard Connor talk about going back to warn Professor Cutter that Helen was going to shoot him, then talk himself out of it by thinking about the consequences if the Professor hadn't died. Sighing, he sealed the envelope and wrote Connor's name on the front with an address and instructions to deliver in April 2012, a few weeks after he'd last been at the ARC. He could only imagine the look on Connor's face when he received the envelope and realised how it got to him.

 

“Molly, have you seen my... Ah, Mr. Quinn. Good to see you looking so well.” Mr. Jacobs gave a respectful nod to Danny. “I apologise that I have not had the opportunity to speak with you since you arrived, and that I have to leave you for a few days.”

 

“Leave?” Molly asked. Her father was clearly dressed for the outdoors with his long woollen coat that Molly thought un-necessary in this Spring weather.

 

“I'm going to see Bainbridge in London. My train leaves from the village station in an hour. I just need my hat and Davies will be ready to drive me to the station.”

 

“I see,” Molly sniffed. “And will you actually take his advice this time?”

 

“That rather depends on what he has to say. Ah, there's my hat!” Mr. Jacobs picked up his hat from the writing desk and placed it on his head before holding his hand out to shake Danny's. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Mr. Quinn. I am sure my staff and my daughter will take care of you.”

 

“I'm sure they will, Mr. Jacobs, and thank you. Have a safe and pleasant journey.”

 

Molly gave her father a hug and wished him well, then watched him leave the room. When she was certain he was gone, she slumped down on the piano stool and shook her head.

 

“Everything okay?” Danny was concerned, and he moved closer to Molly, unsure whether he should offer a supportive hand. “Who's Bainbridge?”

 

“A business advisor,” Molly replied. “I don't know why my father bothers though, he never listens to what he, or anyone else, says. He thinks he knows best. The hall is losing money all the time, we have mounting debts and unless he does something about it we will find that the entire place is taken away from us just to pay off the debts.”

 

“Ouch. Is there much that he can do?”

 

“We have land that isn't being used. It could be leased out to locals for them to grow vegetables or graze animals for a start.” Molly frowned.

 

“Sounds like you have it all worked out. Why doesn't your father let you handle things?”

 

“He's like so many men of his generation, Danny. A lady's place is to provide a son and heir. He would have me married off tomorrow if there was a man he considered suitable for me. I think he just thinks it's too late for me now and hopes my cousin Louisa will marry and have a son to pass the hall to. But that's all irrelevant anyway if he doesn't do something about the financial situation.”

 

Danny shook his head and had to bite his tongue. It was how things were here in this time, though he suspected Molly would be one of the women strongly campaigning for change once the war was over. He could see that spark of defiance in her eyes that would probably get her into trouble on more than one occasion. She'd be okay, and he didn't need to get angry on her behalf.

 

There was the sound of slammed doors and heavy footsteps in the corridor, and Molly stood up to go and see what the commotion was about. Her father was pacing around, looking extremely annoyed. “Papa? What's wrong? I thought you were going to the train station.”

 

“That blasted car! Davies can't get it to start.”

 

Molly sighed. Will was more than just a chauffeur, he was the mechanic as well and kept the vehicle in good working condition. Since he'd left, no-one had thought to ensure it was serviced. “What are you going to do?”

 

“Davies is cycling into the village to see if there's someone at the garage that can take a look at it, but by the time he gets back here it'll be too late anyway. I have the stable boy getting the cart ready.”

 

“The cart? Papa, poor Hercules hasn't pulled the cart in almost a year, and even then it was just around the grounds at the Spring fête. He may not be up to it.”

 

“What choice do I have, Molly? If I don't make that train, the next one isn't until tomorrow and I'll miss my meeting.”

 

Danny stood up and joined Molly, clearing his throat. “I could have a look at the engine if you like? I'm no expert, but I've tinkered around with a few motorbike engines before. Your car can't be that different.”

 

“I couldn't expect you to do that, Mr. Quinn.”

 

“It's the least I can do, Mr. Jacobs. You and your daughter have taken me in when I needed help.” He was already rolling up his shirt sleeves and heading towards the door.

 

Fifteen minutes later, Danny took a step back and asked Mr. Jacobs to start the engine. It leapt into life and a huge smile spread across everyone's face. There was only one more problem. Davies had not yet returned from the village, and after his previous mishap driving, Mr. Jacobs was reluctant to drive himself.

 

“I'll take you,” Danny said. “As long as Molly comes too so she can give me the directions to get back again.”

 

“But Danny, you're recovering from your illness still. Are you sure you're up to it?” Molly looked concerned, but she sensed that Danny had already made up his mind to go. He gave her a look and she sighed. “Very well, but you can't go like that.” She pointed at his shirt, covered in grease and oil. “Back inside with you and I'll get Mrs. Atkinson to bring you a clean shirt and a jacket.”

 

Danny did as he was told, not daring to argue with the young steadfast woman who was already practically shoving him back into the house as she called for Mrs. Atkinson. Some minutes later, the two women were fussing over him, making sure he was presentable enough to go out in public. He dashed into the drawing room to get his letter for Connor just in case he found somewhere that he could deliver it to and was ready to go and get into the car when Mrs. Atkinson stopped him.

 

“Please forgive me being so bold, Mr. Quinn,” she gushed. “I was going to ask Mr. Davies if he would take a parcel to the post office for me. Would you mind doing it on your way back? I wouldn't normally ask, but I won't be able to get into the village for three days and I need to get this sent off. It's for my husband you see, him and some of the boys in his regiment in Belgium.”

 

“Of course I don't mind. After all of the wonderful food you've cooked for me over the last few days, it's the very least I can do.”

 

She handed him a package about the size of a shoe box, wrapped in brown paper and a handful of money. “Daisy and I have been knitting socks,” she explained. “My husband says the boys are suffering terrible blisters on their feet on account of the boots they've been issued with. We thought some good, thick socks might help them. It's our little bit for the war effort.”

 

Molly tugged at Danny's arm. They had to leave now otherwise they would miss the train. With a nod to Mrs. Atkinson, Danny followed Molly back out into the corridor. Molly stopped for a moment, looked Danny up and down and gave an approving nod before reaching up on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

 

Danny felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and when he looked at Molly, her face was glowing too. “What was that for?” he said softly.

 

“To say thank you. You're such a sweet man, Danny Quinn. And you have Mrs. Atkinson charmed, there's not many men that can do that.”

 

Danny wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn't consider himself sweet, and the charm just seemed to come naturally without much effort. He supposed it was his Irish ancestry, his father always seemed to have a way with women and Danny had often found that he could get women to give him information during an investigation without really having to try. After an awkward moment, Danny swallowed and said that they should be going. Molly led him out to the car and he got into the driver's seat with Mr. Jacobs at his side in the front passenger seat and Molly in the back. He passed Mrs. Atkinson's parcel to her, along with his letter and she placed them on the seat beside her as Danny started the car and set off for the train station. He was curious to see how the place he'd grown up in had looked before all of the housing developments.

 

-o-

 

 

Danny waited by the car whilst Molly went with her father to wait on the station platform. They'd made good time, and there was still several minutes before the train for London was due. The station looked very familiar to Danny, though in his time it had fallen into disrepair, a victim of Dr. Beeching's closures in the 1960s. It was nice to see it in all its glory, he'd always thought it a shame that nothing had ever been done with the building.

 

Further down the road he could just about make out the beginnings of the village. A small smile spread across his face as he remembered being dragged into the village on Saturday mornings with his mother. He felt guilty now that he'd given her such a hard time sometimes. She'd felt lonely a lot of the time since they had no other family here, having moved to England from Ireland in search of work. Danny's father had an engineering job that often took him away from home for days and sometimes weeks at a time, and his mother found handling two young, lively boys difficult. As a bribe to make him and Patrick behave whilst she did her shopping, she would buy them a doughnut or an iced bun from the bakery on the corner, and they'd sit and eat them as they waited for the bus home. He supposed it would be there now, old Mrs. Green that owned the shop said it had been in her family for over 100 years. He could picture it now with the large window at the front made from small panes of glass. He and Patrick would gaze through it for several minutes, staring in wonder at the pastries and cakes on display.

 

Thinking about Patrick made the smile leave his face. Not all of his memories of this place were happy. He tried not to look, but he found himself turning and gazing beyond the train station to the river that ran parallel to the railway line. It was a little shallower here than further down, and in the Summer all the local kids used to bathe in it. They always had to be careful though, only a few metres down river was a ridge where the river suddenly became deeper and had a strong undercurrent. Danny had known it as Jacob's Ridge and he had never known why it had been called that. He'd always assumed Jacob was the man that had built the bridge across the river and railway line nearby but now he wondered if it was actually the surname Jacobs, and that it was something to do with Molly's family. He would ask her when they got back.

 

Then his gaze moved past the river. It was just fields now, but in about forty years time, a new development would be built there to house the growing population after the second world war, and amongst the new buildings would be the house that had caused so much heartache and tore his family apart. He felt his stomach churn as he thought of those events.

 

The sound of the train rattling into the station and the screeching of brakes as it came to a stop made him pull himself back together. He got back into the car, knowing that Molly would not be long now. He had to push aside the bad memories and get on with the tasks in hand – going to the post office with Mrs. Atkinson's precious package and asking if there a possibility that they would hold onto his letter for a hundred years with instructions to deliver to the ARC at the right time. It would be a long shot, and he would have to use some of that charm that seemed to be serving him so well here.

 

Moments later, Molly was getting into the seat beside him. “Did he get off okay?” Danny asked.

 

“Yes, thanks to you. Now, let's go into the village and get that package sent. We can park by the church hall across the road from the post office.”

 

Danny pulled away and following Molly's directions drove down the narrow road, glad to be away from the station and the river and the bad memories there. He recognised some of the buildings as they approached the centre of the village, many of the cottages had remained unchanged. It almost felt like being home, and there was a small part inside of Danny that wondered if perhaps this was as close to home as he'd ever get. Even if Connor did have the technology to open an anomaly, just how accurate could he be with it? It was one thing to open an anomaly into 'late Jurassic', he'd be right, give or take a few thousand years. Pinning it down to a specific date could be incredibly difficult.

 

As they rounded the corner and slowed down to park at the side of the church hall, Danny noticed a small crowd had gathered outside. It appeared to be mostly women, and he got the impression that they were angry about something. Molly frowned. “We had better be as quick as possible,” she said. “I don't want to get caught up in that. I can't believe those women still think that a man who chooses not to go off to war is a coward after the things that have been reported in the papers.”

 

As Danny brought the car to a standstill, he looked over at the crowd with interest. He'd heard that this kind of thing happened in the early days of the war. It was considered that it was every man's loyal duty to serve king and country, and that anyone who didn't was branded a coward unless they were ruled out on medical grounds. Molly and Danny made their way swiftly across the road to the post office whilst Molly explained that Sam Hereford, the owner of the grocery shop next to the church hall, was a conscientious objector and had made his feelings on conscription well known. As a result, his shop had been boycotted by a number of the villagers, and a small but very vocal group of women had taken it upon themselves to harass him at every opportunity in the hope they would shame him into changing his mind.

 

Danny waited at the counter whilst the assistant weighed the package and determined how much it would cost to send. He had his reservations about leaving the letter here. This building didn't exist in his time and he couldn't even recall there being a post office in the village. At some point, this place would shut down. Could he rely on the letter being passed on? It wasn't a risk he was prepared to take. Perhaps he could call into the bakery instead? It would take a little persuasion but he believed he stood more of a chance of the letter making it to 2012 that way. Tucking the envelope into the inside pocket of the jacket, he paid for the postage on the package and went to find Molly.

 

She was stood outside, shaking her head in disbelief at the protesting crowd. It seemed to be dispersing though, Sam had apparently shut the shop for the day and had left so there was no point continuing their protests. Somewhat relieved, Molly and Danny crossed back over the road to where they had parked, and that was when Danny spotted a young woman looking somewhat distressed. He nudged Molly and they went over to her.

 

“My baby!” she wailed. “He was with me in the crowd, but when we surged forward we became separated and now I can't find him!”

 

Molly placed a comforting arm around the woman. “How old is he? A small child can't have got very far. My friend, Mr. Quinn, will look for him.”

 

“He's not quite 5 years old.”

 

“Then he's probably just hiding somewhere. I expect the crowd was a frightening experience for one so small and he took himself off to where he felt safe. We'll find him.”

 

Danny was already striding down the road, looking for places where a small boy might go. Word quickly spread, and soon most of the people that had been in the crowd were now helping to look for the child. Danny suddenly felt his stomach twist painfully and his head began to spin. This was exactly how it had been when they realised Patrick was missing. The whole town turned out to search for the boys, hoping that they'd just decided to play a prank on their friend and were hiding somewhere, afraid they'd be in trouble for letting it go on for so long that the police had been called.

 

Danny found that he could no longer focus his eyes. It was like it had only been yesterday and every single painful moment came crashing back to him. The ground beneath his feet seemed to be moving and then he felt bile rising up his gullet. Then everything went black.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Danny slowly opened his eyes and blinked. For a moment he wasn't sure where he was, then his eyes focussed on the pretty red head sat at the side of his bed holding his hand and remembered.

“Welcome back,” Molly smiled. “I knew you weren't properly recovered. I should never have let you drive my father to the station.”

“What happened?”

“You passed out.”

Danny shut his eyes for a moment. It all came back, the protesting crowd and the woman crying because her son had gone missing. “Did they find the little boy?” he asked.

“Yes, thank goodness. It was as I said. He was hiding under one of the pews in the church, sobbing his poor little heart out because he'd been afraid of all the shouting. Heaven only knows what that woman was thinking, taking a small child to a protest like that. I hope she's learnt her lesson.”

Danny felt anger rise through his body and he sat up. “It's not always the mother's fault!” he raged. “Sometimes children just do things and there's...” He stopped, realising that Molly had backed away and the look of horror on her face upset him. She had been so kind to him, and she didn't deserve to be shouted at. “I'm sorry. I just get very... passionate about things like that.”

“Is that what happened with your brother?” Molly said softly, moving closer again. “When he disappeared I mean. You said this morning that he had disappeared.”

Danny felt tears stinging his eyes and he knew he couldn't hold it in any longer. He had to tell Molly his story, at least some of it. He'd never really told anyone his side of things before and maybe it was time to let it out. People he'd grown up with all knew what happened so he'd never had to explain anything. Similarly, when he joined the police force, they were all familiar with the case. Danny was 'the brother of that kid that got murdered in Bestwicke village.' and they all understood his reasons for becoming a copper. No-one had ever really thought to ask him how he felt.

“Patrick was 14,” he began. Molly settled herself down to listen, taking Danny's hand and squeezing it, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. “I was meant to be taking care of him, but he was just an annoyance that I didn't need hanging around with me. I gave him some money to stay out of my way for the day and off he went with his two mates.”

“They broke into old man Riley's place, knowing that he was away visiting his daughter. I don't think they had any malicious intent, they were just being teenagers and thought it was a bit of a lark. Story goes that Patrick and Jimmy went upstairs to explore whilst Ryan had a nosey around the kitchen. Next thing, Ryan hears Patrick screaming and he ran upstairs to find him. There was no sign of either Patrick or Jimmy anywhere. By the time Ryan plucked up the courage to go and tell his parents what had happened, a few hours had passed.”

Molly shifted even closer, and placed her hand on Danny's cheek. He felt her thumb gently caress his cheek and he realised that she was wiping away his tears. Now that the flood gates had opened, he didn't think he could stop them even if he wanted to.

“Everyone turned out to help look for them but after three days of frantic searching and no sign of either of them, the police scaled down the search. The river was dredged and when that didn't turn up any clues as to what might have happened to them, they all but gave up the search.”

“And they were never found?” Molly said, her voice almost a whisper.

Danny hesitated. There was so much more to this story that he longed to tell her, but she would never believe him. He barely believed it himself sometimes. Shaking his head, he continued. “Fingers were pointed in every direction. It had to be the parents of course, even I was blamed at one point – the disgruntled older brother annoyed at having to spend his summer looking after his kid brother. I blamed Ryan, believing that perhaps he'd played a trick on Patrick and Jimmy and it had gone wrong. Three families were completely ripped apart that day, Molly. The stress made my mother very ill, and my father drowned his sorrows in alcohol until his liver gave out and he died.”

“I'm so sorry, Danny. Today must have brought back some very painful memories for you.”

Danny felt like something snapped inside him and all of those years of holding back his emotions came crashing through his body like a tidal wave. He let out a noise that didn't even sound like him and the next thing he knew, Molly's arms were folded around his body and pulling him against her chest. Her scent filled his nostrils and the warmth of her body against him was comforting. He hadn't cried this hard in years.

Molly gently rocked back and forth, stroking Danny's back and hair as she allowed him to cry. She could feel his entire body shaking and she sensed that he had never allowed himself to show this level of emotion before. She whispered that it was okay, and he should just let it all out. He clung to her a little too tightly, but Molly ignored it, it was the last thing she was concerned about right now.

After several long minutes, Danny's sobbing was reduced to gasping breaths and he'd stopped shaking. Molly slowly released her hold on him and she felt his grip on her relax. As he pulled away, he kept his head dipped as if he was ashamed of what had just happened. Taking his face in both her hands, Molly tilted his head up to look at her. 

“I'm sorry,” he muttered. “Don't know where that came from.”

“An apology is not necessary, Danny. I'm glad you felt that you could share that with me, and you'll probably feel much better for letting it out at last.”

Danny wasn't quite so sure about that, but there wasn't anything he could do about it now. He took a deep, cleansing breath and took hold of Molly's wrists to move her hands away from his face. She resisted, and brushed her fingertips over his cheeks, wiping away the remaining tears before he took her right hand and pressed the fingers to his lips. A fleeting moment later, it wasn't her fingers on his lips but her own lips, soft and warm. It was brief, probably over with too quickly to be defined as a kiss, but it left them both staring at each other in stunned silence. 

It was Molly that gathered her wits about her first, standing up and trying to look anywhere but at Danny. Her cheeks felt hot and her mind was reeling. At nursing school, she'd heard that sometimes patients and nurses experienced feelings towards each other, feelings that could be mistaken for something else that others might think inappropriate and unprofessional. She had to push aside what had just happened; Danny was her patient and a guest in her home. What she had just done was wrong. “I should let you get some rest,” she said quietly, stepping back to ensure she put some distance between them.

Danny's eyelids felt heavy. He was exhausted and he was not going to protest at being made to stay in bed and sleep. He simply nodded in agreement and laid back, resting his head on the pillow. He could hear Molly's soft footsteps moving towards the door and he felt confused. Should he say something? Acknowledge that something had just happened between them that he couldn't explain? Or would it be better to remain silent and pretend that they hadn't just kissed? Before he could decide, he heard the door click shut and Molly was gone. She had made the decision for him.

 

-o-

 

Molly sat at the dining table waiting for Davies to serve breakfast. She had had a restless night, her mind full of the events of the last few days since the mysterious Danny Quinn had come into her life. There'd never been anyone, especially not a man, that had occupied her mind as much as he had and she had certainly never felt so drawn to someone without actually knowing anything about them. 

She couldn't begin to imagine what it must have been like for him after his brother's disappearance. Whilst she had had her own share of family losses, at least she'd been able to say goodbye to her mother before she passed away, and they knew for certain the fate of her cousin who had been on board the Titanic that fateful day. Poor Danny and his family had never had proper closure, and it was clear that he had not allowed himself to grieve properly. Last night was just the start for him. Now that he'd told her, it would all come flooding out and he could begin to move on. But she also suspected that he was still holding something back. He'd had another nightmare last night. She'd heard him calling out during the night. Her heart ached for him and she desperately wanted to go and comfort him as she'd done on the previous nights, but she feared that she could not trust herself around him in his vulnerable state. The memory of how his lips had felt on hers was still strong. 

He'd been calling out Patrick's name again; the same conversation he'd had every time - “It doesn't have to be like this!” What did he mean by that? Then he'd started shouting out strange words she didn't understand – anomaly, dinosaur... It was all very puzzling and confusing, which only added to her intrigue for him.

She was shaken from her thoughts by someone clearing their throat. It was Davies. “Mr. Quinn has asked me to enquire whether it would be appropriate for him to join you for breakfast this morning, Ma'am.”

“Of course it is, Davies. Tell him to come as soon as possible.” Molly felt her heart begin to race, though quite why she didn't know. Danny had been waiting just outside the door, and at the nod from Davies, he entered the room and smiled.

“Danny, it's good to see you looking so well. After yesterday...”

“I got a whole load of bad stuff off my chest,” he said. “Thanks to you. And I feel so much better for it. I should have done that years ago.” Davies pulled out the chair directly opposite Molly and Danny sat down. “In fact, I feel so good today, I think I could actually manage a full breakfast. It didn't seem right to sit in bed and be waited on.”

“Well, I'm glad of the company. Davies, please inform Mrs. Atkinson that Mr. Quinn is taking breakfast with me today and that we would both like everything that she can conjure up.”

“Right away, Ma'am.” Davies gave a respectful nod and disappeared, leaving Molly and Danny alone. Molly felt her cheeks burn slightly as she made full eye contact with Danny for the first time since she had kissed him. There was an awkward silence.

Molly was the first to break it. She swallowed nervously before speaking. “I think I will spend some of today getting Hercules used to pulling the cart again,” she began. “It's likely that Will be away for some time and since you'll be leaving us shortly, we cannot rely on you being around to fix the car again.”

Danny suddenly realised that the letter for Connor was still in his jacket pocket. With everything that had happened, he didn't have the chance to go into the bakery to see if he could persuade them to humour him and take the letter with the promise to keep it until the year 2012 and hand it to the ARC. 

“What would you like to do today?” Molly was asking. “I can take you on a tour of the estate once the cart is hooked up, though I don't know how far Hercules will be able to go.”

A plan was beginning to form in Danny's mind. It would be easier to pass on the letter without Molly around. The less she knew, the better, and she would only ask questions if she was with him. “Perhaps I could take the car into town to that garage by the train station? They could do a service on it for you and make sure it's in good working order. I'd like to explore the village, and I could do that whilst I wait for them to be done.”

“If you're sure? You had a rather unpleasant experience yesterday. If you were to have another turn like that and there's no-one with you...”

“I'm sure I'll be fine,” he said, reaching over the table and patting her hand. “I was just overwhelmed by the memories of what happened to Patrick being dragged up by that boy going missing yesterday. It won't happen again.”

After a very large breakfast that Danny devoured hungrily, he found himself in the car, pulling away from the long driveway of Bestwicke Hall and onto the main road into the village. It felt good to be away and on his own again. This was how he preferred it to be, his own company and no-one to answer to. There was a part of him that was wondering how much further things with Molly might have gone last night if they had been in another time and place. She was a well bred lady who probably had her life mapped out for her, even if she didn't particularly want it to be. She would take a husband eventually, most likely someone her father would find for her, and she would be expected to be 'innocent'. If this was his own time and he'd met Molly in town somewhere during a night out, it would have been a different story. 

“Stop it, Quinn!” he chastised himself. Thinking like this was wrong. He didn't belong here, and the longer he stayed, the more he risked changing something he shouldn't. He couldn't allow any feelings to get in the way and he had already impacted on Molly's life too much. The sooner he got the letter on its way to Connor, the better. 

He found the garage easily and told the two old gents that ran the place to give the car a thorough check and service, and to charge any expenses to Bestwicke Hall. They practically leapt on the car, eager to get started. Business had been very slow for them since the outbreak of the war, they'd said. Most of the men that were able to drive had either been snapped up by the army or were involved in the transportation of essential supplies. 

After leaving the car, Danny made his way into the centre of the village, passing the post office and towards the part of the village he recognised and the bakery. The smell of fresh baked bread was already filtering towards his nostrils and he inhaled deeply, a smile spreading across his face. The bakery was exactly as he remembered it, as if time had stood still. Of course, in his time, a treat from the bakery was a luxury. Here, the bakery was an essential part of life in the village in the absence of supermarkets. There was a queue of people in the shop, buying bread mostly, but stopping to chat to the lady serving behind the counter. Of course, the main topic of conversation was the war, and how terrible the stories of the gas attacks were. One woman said that her nephew had been brought back home in a terrible state. “They had to take off his leg from the knee down,” she said, dabbing her wet cheeks with a cotton handkerchief. “And he was one of the lucky ones.”

Danny listened, feeling somewhat guilty that he was standing there and not on the frontline like other men his age in this time. He felt the stares of some of the women, and he grew more uncomfortable. He'd witnessed the strength of feeling against men who weren't off doing their duty yesterday and he hoped there wasn't going to be a scene. He did have a cover story planned; he would lapse into the Irish accent he had shed many years ago, since conscription had not been forced on Irish citizens and he would not be obliged to participate. 

His parents, both being Irish, had been proud of their heritage when they moved to England, but it was hard being Irish in the 1980s in a place where everyone assumed they were potential terrorists because of their accents. Danny made a decision at a very young age to adopt the local accent so that he wouldn't stand out and could avoid the bullying at school. Patrick, on the other hand, thrived on being different and had been known to emphasise his Irish accent.

When he finally got towards the front of the queue, Danny noticed that the lady serving was pregnant. It made sense. Old Mrs. Green was in her sixties when he visited the shop as a young boy, it was very likely that the unborn child was her. He ordered a large loaf of bread, and as the lady turned to wrap it in paper for him he decided to bite the bullet and try his luck at getting her to agree to taking the letter.

“When's your baby due?”

She stroked the curve of her stomach proudly. “Another three months to go, and not a moment too soon! I'm fed up of having swollen ankles and looking like one of my father's prize heffers!”

“Nonsense!” Danny declared. “There's nothing more beautiful than a woman glowing with pregnancy. It's the most natural thing in the world.” It amused him to see her cheeks redden, it was becoming a bit of habit making women blush and he could get quite used to it. “And I bet your daughter will make you so proud, making sure this place stays open for many more years to come and keeping it as a traditional family business.”

“Daughter? Don't let my husband hear you say that. He's desperate for a son, though personally I'd rather have a girl. At least she won't be sent off to war. As for keeping this business open, I wish I shared your faith, sir. We're barely managing as it is these days. If this war lasts for much longer...” She sighed sadly and for a moment seemed to be lost somewhere else in her own thoughts.

“Oh, it's a girl alright. I feel it in my bones. And just to show you how much faith I do have in this place being a success...” Danny reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the letter for Connor. “When did you open this shop?”

“March 1912. I remember it well, one our first loaves we made was in the shape of the Titanic which was due to make its maiden voyage a few weeks later. My husband was very proud of that and we had it on display for days.”

Danny grinned, it was perfect. “Well, on the 100th anniversary of the shop opening, I want your descendants to deliver this letter to my office. I will make sure that the people there now put something on record to expect this letter in 2012 and they will gift the bearer of the letter with money appropriate for the time.” He passed the envelope to the woman and waited nervously. She cast her eyes over the handwritten address and then looked up at Danny.

“The Home office? You're a government official?”

“I guess so. And I suppose the Home office will still exist in a hundred years time just like your shop. What do you say?” He was hopeful. At least she hadn't thrown it back at him and dismissed him as an idiot. She was pushing the envelope into the pocket of her apron and patted it.

“Okay, I'll humour you because you have a nice, honest face.”

“Thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me.” If there hadn't been a counter separating them, he'd have flung his arms around her and given her a massive hug. He could only hope that she would hang on to the letter and pass it on down the family until 2012. With a light heart, he paid for the bread, tucked it under his arm and set off to go for a walk along the river and railway line to pass the time as he waited for the car to be serviced. He would soon know if his gamble had paid off, Connor should be putting in an appearance very soon and he would be on his way back home to where he belonged. 

 

-o-

 

The following morning was sunny again, and after another of Mrs. Atkinson's hearty breakfasts, Molly declared that she was going to give Hercules another run out with the cart. Danny declined her offer of being taken out for a tour of the grounds and said he'd find something to keep himself occupied whilst she was gone. The truth was that he felt uneasy about just sitting around and being waited upon by the servants now that he felt he was almost back up to full strength. It wasn't him. He needed to be doing something useful.

He wandered around the house, hoping to find something that needed to be done, but the household seemed to be running pretty much like clockwork already. He couldn't even tinker around with the car again since the garage had done a thorough job on it, though he supposed as a last resort he could give it a clean and polish. Finding his way down to the servants quarters, he went in search of a bucket and cloth.

“What on earth are you doing, Mr. Quinn?” Danny turned round and came face to face with Mrs. Atkinson, her hands on her hips looking stern, but with a twinkle in her eyes. 

“I'm fed up of sitting around,” he said. “Thought I'd go and clean something somewhere.”

Mrs. Atkinson shook her head. “A gentleman like you? Still, there's a war on and even Miss Jacobs herself is working. If you really want to be helpful, young Davies is out in the orchard trying to fix the fencing that came down in the storms we had over the winter. I'm sure he'd appreciate an extra pair of hands.”

That sounded like something Danny could really get stuck into. He found the orchard easily and watched young Davies for a few moments with amusement. The footman was clearly not used to manual labour like this and was struggling with a fence post. It was not a job he should be tackling alone. 

“Need some help?” Danny called out, rolling up his shirt sleeves. Davies looked round, a little confused. Danny was at his side. “Helped my dad a few times when I was younger. It's ten times easier with two people.”

“But, sir. You're...” Davies began to protest.

“I'm just a working bloke like you. I work for the government, and before that I was a policeman. I'm not afraid of a bit of hard labour.”

Smiling gratefully, Davies handed Danny a large wooden mallet and the two men were soon getting stuck into fixing the section of fencing that separated the orchard from the grassy area that looked like it was in need of a good tidying up too. Danny decided that he would tackle that tomorrow if the weather stayed as fine as it was now. He figured they must have some sort of lawn mower around.

It was probably a good two hours or so before Molly returned with Hercules and the cart. She waited for the stable hand to unfasten the horse and then set off in search of Danny, wondering what he'd found to occupy himself during her absence. As she walked towards the entrance of the hall, she heard familiar voices. It sounded like Davies and Danny. She turned the corner and could see Davies hammering a fence post into the ground. He'd clearly been at it for some time as his shirt was off and even from the distance she was, she could see sweat on his back. As she moved closer, she saw Danny on his knees, holding the post steady for Davies. He too was shirtless, and Molly gasped. 

It wasn't the first time she'd seen him without a shirt of course, but there was a marked difference from then to now. She could make out the contours of the muscles in his back and arms as the Spring sunshine bathed him in soft light. He certainly looked healthy, and fit and... “Molly Jacobs!” She shocked herself with the thoughts that were running through her mind, thoughts she had to push aside and forget. 

Retreating a few steps, she took a deep breath and tried to compose herself. “Danny?” she called out and then strode purposefully towards the orchard. She hoped that by calling out, she had given both men enough warning that she was approaching and that they would make themselves more presentable. Davies was flustered and was struggling to do up the last button on his shirt as she rounded the corner again, but Danny didn't seem concerned and hadn't even picked up his shirt from the ground. 

Molly felt her cheeks burn and she swallowed nervously, deciding to address her comments to Davies directly and not make eye contact with Danny in case she betrayed what she'd been thinking only a few minutes ago. “It looks like you two have been busy?”

“Ma'am. We're almost finished I think. There's just one more post to set upright again and that should do it.”

“Perhaps I should get Mrs. Atkinson to sort you both out with some cold drinks? You look like you could do with one.”

“Oh, that would be amazing! Thank you.” Danny grinned and wiped his forehead with his forearm. 

Just as Molly turned to go to the kitchens, there was the sound of crackling, static electricity in the air, making her stop. Danny felt his stomach leap. Surely it couldn't be what he thought it was so soon? He was impressed. Connor had surpassed himself if he had managed to pinpoint the exact location and time with the anomaly device. 

The familiar golden glow filled the orchard and both Molly and Davies backed away, holding their arms to the faces to shield their eyes, but Danny took a step closer. He felt a smile spread across the entire width of his face as he stared into the anomaly.

“Connor?” There was movement just the other side, he was certain of it. The ARC team had come to bring him home at last. But then, his heart sank. He heard a sound that he recognised too well, and it was not good.

Grabbing a piece of broken fencing, he held it ready like a baseball bat and urged Davies to do the same whilst telling Molly to stay back. There was a second screech and the sight that had plagued many of Danny's nightmares was in front of him yet again. The huge bird with its strong, hooked beak and long neck ran towards him.

“What on Earth? Danny?” Molly cried out.

“Questions later. Right now, we have to get this bastard back through there where it belongs. Davies, watch me and do what I do. Its the best way of dealing with 'em.” Danny took a swing at the bird, striking it across the head and stopping it in its tracks momentarily. As it moved forward again, Davies took a swing at it with his piece of wood and it began to back away.

“That's it!” Danny called. “Almost there. Keep trying to hit it and watch out for that beak, it'll rip through your flesh like a dagger. Believe me, I've been on the receiving end on more than one occasion.”

Just as Danny thought they'd managed to get the bird to retreat back the way it had come, a second bird came through. Davies took a swing at it, but missed and the bird lunged angrily at him with its enormous beak wide open. He let out a scream as Danny's warning echoed in his head, believing this was the end for him. Then a chunk of wood connected squarely with the bird's head and it was clearly dazed. Assuming it was Danny, Davies regained his composure and prepared to take another swing at the bird.

“Come on, Davies, we can beat this!” Molly said, a fierce expression on her face and a piece of wood in her hand ready for another attack.

“Ma'am?” Davies couldn't believe that his usually quiet and ladylike mistress had managed to land such an accurate and effective blow to the creature, but he was grateful that she had. She'd probably saved him from some serious injuries. 

“Keep going!” Danny called, “They're giving up.”

After several more swings from all three, the birds turned and ran back through the anomaly, deciding that they did not want to tussle with their attackers any longer. Danny let out a sigh of relief then held out his hand to shake Davies's. “Well done, mate. Those things were the bane of my life for several months. They're big and stupid mostly, but deadly.”

He then turned to Molly to praise her for her involvement too, but he met with a confused and angry glare from her. 

“Home office?” she said, folding her arms. “I think you owe me an explanation, Mr. Quinn, or whoever you are.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was almost two hours before the anomaly closed. Danny had refused to leave the site until he was certain the danger had passed, despite Molly's demands to be told what was going on. She'd given up after half an hour and Danny was slightly amused by her behaviour. It was obvious that she was not used to someone other than her father telling her 'no'. She'll get over it, he thought, and if she's going to survive in the changing world after the end of the war, she'll have to get used to not always having her own way. He could imagine her sitting in the drawing room right now, sitting like a petulant teenager and waiting for him to come in.

Molly's behaviour was the least of his worries at the moment though. Young Davies was content with a basic explanation of what an anomaly was and that Danny worked for a special government department that tried to keep them secret from the general public.

“I can understand why, Mr. Quinn,” he said. “Imagine if the Germans got hold of one of those creatures! It would change the whole nature of the war.”

“Which is why you must not breathe a word of this to anyone, not even Daisy or Mrs. Atkinson.”

The young footman nodded solemnly and puffed out his chest. He felt he'd been trusted with something very important, and Danny knew the secret of the anomaly was safe with him. Molly on the other hand, would not be so easily fobbed off. She would want to know the hows and whys of Danny's involvement, and he knew he couldn't lie to her. He would have to tell her everything, including what he'd done to Patrick. 

Leaving strict instructions for Davies to remain at the site for another hour or so just in case, and to come and find him if the anomaly appeared again, Danny made his way slowly back into the house and along the corridor towards the drawing room. He found Molly sat at the piano, holding a framed picture of a woman who looked very much like an older version of herself, her mother he presumed. He hadn't noticed the picture before when he'd been listening to Molly playing the piano.

Molly turned when she heard Danny enter the room and replaced the photo back on top of the piano. She remained silent and just glared at him, waiting for him to speak. 

“They're called anomalies,” he began, clearing his throat nervously and sitting himself down on the seat in the middle of the room, facing Molly. “At least, that's what we call them. They're portals, gateways, rips in time... and the day you found me, I had just stumbled through one having just spent the best part of the last two years travelling through time.”

Molly blinked. She wasn't sure what she was expecting Danny to say but it certainly wasn't this. It did explain some of his nightmares though, she'd heard him say 'anomaly' a number of times, and it always sounded like he was being chased by something. Was it one of those bird-like creatures they'd just seen? He certainly seemed to know how to deal with them.

“So all of this about you working for the Home office isn't true? And your brother disappearing? Was that just a story to make me feel sorry for you so that you could stay longer?” Molly felt her stomach churning. Danny had really got under her skin, and to think that it was all a pretence made her feel ill.

“I've never lied to you, Molly. Everything I've said is true. I've just been a little... economical with all of the facts. But I'll tell you every detail if you'll let me?” He motioned for Molly to join him on the seat. It would be easier to talk properly if she was closer. After a moment of hesitation, she came over and sat down, keeping as much distance between her and Danny as possible.

“You knew my name and the fact I work for the government because you looked through my wallet whilst I was ill, right?” he said, reaching into his trouser pocket for the wallet and opening it up. “But you didn't look any further?”

Molly shook her head. “Your name was all we needed to know at that point.”

“Well, if you'd searched further, you would have found my driver's licence which has my date of birth on it.” He handed the small card to Molly, pointing at the figures that showed he was born in 1975. Molly's eyes widened for a moment as she stared at it, trying to work out what it meant.

“I don't exist for another 60 years, Molly. I'm not born yet.”

“You used one of those... anomalies to come here?” Molly wasn't sure if she believed what she was hearing, but after what she'd witnessed this afternoon, anything was possible.

“Not directly. It all started with Patrick's disappearance, for me anyway. As soon as I was old enough, I moved to London and joined the police force. I figured that it would be the only way to bring whoever had murdered my brother to justice. I kept going back to that house every few months, hoping that they would return to the scene of their crime, but they never did.”

Molly nodded that she understood and waited for Danny to continue his story. “It was some years later that I came across Connor, Abby and Jenny at the house. Turns out they worked for something called the Anomaly Research Centre, and they were investigating an anomaly there. I quit my job and joined them, believing that Patrick could have gone through the anomaly and was still alive.”

“I liked working there, we were a good team, but there are people out there who want to use the anomalies for selfish gain or malicious intent. Imagine being able to go to the future to bring back valuable resources, or going back in time and preventing someone you hate from being born?”

“I can see that there might be an attraction in that,” Molly responded. 

“So, the first time I disappeared through an anomaly, I was chasing a woman called Helen Cutter. She was going to try and kill the first humans and prevent humanity from even existing. We went after her to try and stop her and got separated. My anomaly closed and I was trapped in an ancient world inhabited by prehistoric creatures. It was a whole year before I made it back home, a year living alone and surviving purely on my wits.” He paused for a moment, closing his eyes as he thought about that time and how he'd almost given up several times and wished he was dead. He also knew that what he was going to say next would likely change everything between him and Molly.

“When I got home, my friends were in the middle of a stand off between themselves and yet another enemy using the anomalies for their crimes. Turns out I was right about Patrick. He was still alive and had spent 18 years travelling through anomalies. His experiences had turned him into something so twisted and bitter he was barely recognisable. He was the enemy that my friends were chasing, except they had no idea at the time that he was my brother.”

Molly gasped. She knew what it must have meant to Danny after all of those years believing that Patrick was dead to find him, but for that reunion to not be the happy one he should have had must have been devastating. She reached for Danny's hand, but he pulled away and dropped his gaze down to the floor. 

“Killing people had become a way of life for him,” Danny continued, “So someone had to stop him. When he escaped from the ARC and went back through the anomaly, I had to go after him. Maybe I thought that once it was just the two of us, I could get through to him, brother to brother. But, when it finally came to that point, there was really only one question. Him or me.”

Molly's mind went back to the many nightmares that she'd witnessed Danny having; his cries of “It doesn't have to be like this!” would remain in her memory for a long time. She could feel his anguish and desperation then, and now she knew why. 

“He would've killed me. I have no doubt about that. But years of experience with firearms when I was in the police force gave me the edge. I had quicker reflexes. And in the end, the answer to the question was 'him'.” Danny took a deep breath and looked up, blinking away the unshed tears in his eyes. He tried to read Molly's expression as she took in what he'd just said, but he couldn't tell how she was feeling.

There was silence as Danny waited for Molly to react. He needed her to say something; anything. Most of all, he wanted to feel her arms around him again, comforting him and telling him that everything would be fine now. But she just stared at him, lips pressed together and the hint of a frown slowly creeping over her delicate features.

“You murdered your brother?” she finally said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes.”

“How long ago? How long was it before you came here and we found you?”

Danny couldn't answer. All he could remember after he shot Patrick was throwing the gun away. He'd been so horrified by what he'd done, he had vowed in that split second that he would never touch a gun again. Then, his mind was a blank. The next thing he remembered was waking up in Molly's bed. It could have been only a matter of hours after killing Patrick, or it could have been many months. He really had no idea. 

“I should probably be reporting you to some kind of authority, but quite frankly I wouldn't know which one, and since technically you don't actually exist...”

“Molly, I...”

She held her hand up to make Danny stop talking and she gave him a stern look. “I think the best thing is for you to leave as soon as possible. I cannot have a murderer under my roof.”

Danny knew there was no point in arguing with her. She was right. He had already stayed longer that he should have done, he'd impacted on her life too much and the consequences of that could be devastating. He stood up and held out his hand to shake hers. “I'll get my things and be on my way. I just want to say thank you for everything you've done over the last few days. You've no idea how much you've helped me.” As he turned to leave, Molly's face softened.

“There's a train to London at 8 o'clock in the morning. I'll ask Davies to take you to the station in the car. You can have the clothes you've been wearing and I'll give you enough money for your fare and a couple of nights lodgings in London. By that time, perhaps your friend will have come for you, or you'll have found a way to earn some money to keep a shelter above your head.” 

Molly waited until she couldn't hear Danny's footsteps in the corridor as he made his way to the guest room before she allowed her tears to fall. She wasn't entirely sure why she was crying, all she knew was that it felt like a gaping hole had just been ripped open inside her. A hole that she knew would not be repaired easily. She'd taken Danny in at face value and felt a compulsion to help him deal with his brother's loss. She still did, but what he had done was unforgivable. Sending him away was the best solution all round.

-o-

After a restless night, Molly dressed herself and made her way down to the dining room. It was still early and Daisy was only just setting the table. “Ma'am! I'm sorry... I'll be...”

“It's fine, Daisy. I didn't sleep well. I will have breakfast when it's ready, please don't rush just because I'm up and about early.” She sat herself down in her usual place and gazed over at the empty seat across from her. Danny had sat there yesterday, tucking into a full and hearty breakfast as they chatted. It didn't feel right being alone here. All night she had wondered if sending Danny away was the right thing to do, tossing all the different arguments around in her head until they all just began to merge into one, confusing mess.

It was strange. The fact he'd told her that he was from the future didn't really bother her that much. After all, when and where someone was born didn't matter, but their actions did. That was what concerned her about Danny. Were his intentions malicious? When she thought about the nightmares he'd had, she realised that he was being haunted by that moment when he had killed Patrick. It was not something he had taken any pride in and wouldn't have been a decision he wanted to make. He'd said that he had hoped he could talk Patrick around, brother to brother. Danny must have felt like he'd failed. 

Molly wiped a tear from her cheek. Had she made a huge mistake? Danny didn't need judgement from anyone else, he was already persecuting himself and probably would for the rest of his life. What he needed was understanding and sympathy if he was to recover and begin to live his life again – and she had pushed him away when he needed her the most.

“Daisy, do you know if Davies took Mr. Quinn to the train station this morning?”

“They left about ten minutes before you came down, ma'am.”

Molly glanced anxiously at the large clock on the wall. Danny's train would not leave for another half an hour. She could get there in time if Hercules was able to pull the cart at a good pace. Perhaps the damage had already been done and he would still leave, but she had to try. If she could at least persuade him to stay until his friend came for him, she could maybe convince him that he didn't have to be ashamed or feel guilty about what he had had to do. 

“Can you let Mrs. Atkinson know that I won't be needing breakfast for the moment?” Molly stood up and almost ran towards the door.

“Is everything alright, ma'am?”

“Not yet. But I intend to try and make it right, Daisy.”

Molly grabbed her coat and went out to the stables. There was no time to wait for the stable boy to fix the cart to Hercules, she would have to do it herself. She'd done it a dozen times before anyway when she'd been too impatient to wait for it to be done for her. Within a few minutes, she was tugging on the reins and urging Hercules forward out of the main driveway. Her heart was beating hard, time would be tight but she should make it to the train station before Danny got on the train.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

“We'll miss you, Mr. Quinn,” Davies said as he helped Danny with the case that Mrs. Atkinson had found for him. “I would've liked to hear more about those anomalies and the creatures. I bet you have some stories to tell!”

 

“Dozens, but nothing that I can share with you unfortunately.” He lifted the case and realised it felt heavier than it should, considering it only contained a few shirts and a couple of pairs of trousers. He opened it and found some food; pies, bread, cheese, some fruit. He was puzzled for a moment then looked up at Davies who was smiling.

 

“Mrs. Atkinson insisted I'm afraid. She doesn't like the fact you're leaving us so suddenly because she's worried about you. She says you need a few more decent meals inside you, but if you're not staying then she wanted to make sure you at least had something to eat.”

 

Danny felt his eyes stinging with tears. He wanted to tell Davies and Mrs. Atkinson that it wasn't his choice to leave, but he couldn't. He'd have to tell them everything too and he'd lose their respect as well as Molly's. It was better that they thought he was just leaving of his own free will.

 

The sound of a train whistle was heard in the distance, and Danny prepared himself. He began to drag the suitcase up onto the platform when he heard another sound. A familiar voice was calling his name and the thunderous noise of horse's hooves on the hard ground echoed through the morning air.

 

“Danny!” It was Molly, approaching at a fast pace with the horse and cart. His heart leapt, was it too much to hope that she wanted to stop him from leaving? At the very least, perhaps she had come to say a proper goodbye and make peace so that they could part on good terms. He turned to face her as the train began to pull into the station, it's brakes screeching and the hiss of steam almost deafening. Then the whistle sounded, loud and shrill. Danny stared in horror as Hercules reared up onto his hind legs in fright then began to gallop away at break neck speed, with the cart bouncing along behind him.

 

“Molly! Hold on!” Danny shouted. He felt helpless, he would not be able to run after the cart and help her because it was going too fast.

 

“The car, I'll go after her in the car!” Davies called. Danny watched him slowly pull away and grew frustrated. If this was his own time, a car would have no problem catching up with the horse, or he'd have leapt onto his motorbike and chased it himself. He could hear Molly's desperate screams for help as she tried to bring Hercules back under control and he knew he couldn't just stand and watch, he had to do something.

 

The horse had left the road now and seemed to be heading towards the river. Danny began to run towards where he thought it was going, hoping to be able to stop him or somehow jump into the cart to help Molly with the reins. “I'm going to try and help you, Molly!” he called out, but even as he said it, he could see that the frightened horse was changing direction having realised that the river was in front of him. The sudden turn made the cart tip over and Molly screamed. The loud splash as she fell into the river struck terror into Danny's heart.

 

“I'm coming, try to stay calm!” he shouted, throwing off his jacket and shoes and preparing to jump in. He knew this part of the river well from his childhood days, they were all warned to stay away because of the currents. If Molly panicked and struggled too much, the currents would drag her under and she'd be swept away.

 

“I can't swim, Danny! Help me!”

 

Danny hesitated for the briefest of moments as he pushed aside all of the warnings. His police training had involved some basic life-saving techniques, and jumping into the water was only to be considered as a last resort, but Molly was too far out for him to reach from the bank, and there were no ropes or branches nearby that he could use. There was nothing else for it. He dived in and swam towards Molly, calling to her the entire time to try and keep her calm and reassure her that he was going to help her. It was only a few metres out, but it seemed like a lifetime before he reached her and grasped hold of her. In her panic, she grabbed him back and almost pushed him under the water.

 

“Molly, I've got you, you have to let me help you. I can't get you back to the shore if you fight against me.”

 

Danny heard shouts from the river bank and he looked up. Some of the locals who had witnessed the unfolding events were forming a human chain and were calling to him. One of them was laid down and reaching out his hand for Danny, just a little out of reach. Digging deep, Danny found the strength to swim a little way using one arm whilst dragging Molly with the other until he could grasp the man's hand. It was a relief to feel the support and before he knew it, he was being helped onto the riverbank with Molly.

 

He was dazed for a moment, vaguely aware of people gathering around to help. Someone threw their jacket over Molly's shoulders, and moments later another jacket was put around his shoulders. He blinked, trying to make sense of what had just happened. This part of the river had been called Jacob's Ridge in his time, and now he knew why. He realised that Molly should have died here today, drowned after losing control of her horse and cart. By saving her life, Danny had just changed history. He could hear Connor's voice in his head, telling him how wrong it was, but he couldn't have just stood by and let her drown.

 

“Danny?” Molly sobbed. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her against his chest and stroking her hair.

 

“It's okay, Molly. I've got you. You're safe now.” He felt her tiny, trembling body against his and he felt something inside he'd not experienced before. It was a moment of clarity and suddenly everything all seemed to make sense and fit into place for the first time in his adult life. There was only thing he could do now. Cupping Molly's cheek with his hand, he tilted her face towards his and leaned in, pressing his lips against hers.

 

Molly responded with a surprised squeak, but then began to return the kiss. Her lips caressed Danny's as she relaxed into his embrace and for a few moments it was like nothing else existed for them. It was only the sound of running feet and a familiar voice that dragged them back to the reality of the situation and they parted, red faced but smiling.

 

“Miss Jacobs!” Davies called. “The ladies at the Post office have managed to restrain Hercules and are holding him in their yard. I'm afraid the cart is badly damaged, but he's fine. They said he can stay with them until he is calm.”

 

Molly closed her eyes and buried her head against Danny's chest. It was all too much for her and she didn't want to think about anything at all. Danny took control. “We can worry about Hercules and the cart later,” he said. “Right now, we need to get Miss Jacobs back home and out of her wet clothing.”

 

There was a flurry of activity as Molly was helped up to the road and escorted back to the car which Davies had parked a few metres away after coming back from chasing Hercules. Danny slid into the front passenger seat beside Davies after making sure that Molly was secure in the back seat and waited for Davies to start the engine and get them all home.

 

-o-

 

News of Molly's dramatic rescue and Danny's heroism spread quickly through the household. Danny tried to blend away in the background and let the staff get on with sorting Molly out. Mrs. Atkinson took charge, insisting that Miss Jacobs should have a nice warm bath, followed by bed rest. She would take her up some of her vegetable broth once she was settled. Molly didn't argue, she didn't have the energy and soon she was being whisked away for her bath.

 

Once the fuss had died down, Mrs. Atkinson turned her attentions to Danny. “For goodness sake, Mr. Quinn! Why are you still standing around in your wet clothes? You'll catch your death of cold!” She made a tutting sound with her tongue and began to push Danny towards the stairs. Her voice then softened. “It's nice to have you back, and after what you did I'm sure Miss Jacobs and her father will insist that you stay.”

 

“I'm not so sure about that, Mrs. Atkinson,” Danny replied.

 

“Nonsense. The way she's been talking about you since you arrived, and now you being her hero and all... she's sweet on you, Mr. Quinn.”

 

He wanted to reply that he was sweet on Molly too, but he didn't see the point. He may be the hero of the moment, but once she had recovered he would be the man from the future that had murdered his own brother in cold blood again. Tomorrow he would head back to the train station and make his way to London as she'd asked. “I should be getting some dry clothes on, Mrs. Atkinson,” he said quietly.

 

“I can bring you up some of the vegetable broth too if you like? You've had a difficult day and you should probably get some rest as well.”

 

“I'd like that, Mrs. Atkinson. Thank you.” He watched her scurry away obediently and he felt a stab of guilt. He would never get used to having servants waiting on him and tending to his every need, it did not sit well with him at all. He sniffed, realising it wasn't something he would have to endure for much longer. He would be on his way to London tomorrow and then hopefully back where he belonged in 2012 very soon.

 

As he passed the door to Molly's room, the thought of 'where he belonged' lingered in his mind. Even when he made it back to 2012, would he truly feel like he fitted in? During the brief time he had returned, it seemed things had changed. Matt Anderson looked to be doing an excellent job as the team leader, so where would that leave Danny when he went back?

 

Molly's door was slightly open and he couldn't resist taking a little peak inside to make sure she was okay. He'd expected her to be asleep, but she was sitting up in bed and saw him.

 

“Danny! Come in. Please?”

 

Somewhat sheepishly, Danny went into the room and stood a little distance from the bed. “Is this the 'done' thing? Is it appropriate for a man like me be in the bedroom of a young, single lady?”

 

“I don't care whether it is or not. Sit down, Danny.” She patted the edge of the bed next to her, indicating for him to sit down. He obeyed, but tried to maintain as much distance between them as possible. “You saved my life today. I will forever owe you a debt. Thank you.”

 

“I didn't do anything that someone else wouldn't have done.”

 

“Perhaps. But the fact remains that it was you that jumped into the river to rescue me.” She reached for his hand and tried to stroke it, but he pulled it away. “I was actually coming to the station to ask if you would consider staying. I made a mistake last night when I asked you to leave.”

 

“No, you were right. I'm a murderer, and I'm grateful that you haven't turned me in to the police, but I shouldn't be around you after what I did.”

 

“You killed your brother, there's no denying that. But was it murder? I thought about it for a long time last night. You had no choice. I suppose it's like our boys on the frontline in France. It's their job to protect us from the enemy, and that job may require them to kill another man. I have no doubt that the men that return to us will be haunted by what they had to do. It's the same for you. Your brother was a dangerous man and he had to be stopped. If you hadn't, then how many other people would he have killed?”

 

Danny looked at Molly, seeing something in her eyes that told him she understood the situation better than he did himself. His body began to tremble as he fought against his tears, and then felt Molly gently squeeze his hand and lean forward to kiss his cheek. “I want to help you,” she whispered. “At least until your friend comes to take you back to your own time.”

 

He turned his face until his lips met Molly's, and she responded with a warmth and passion that would leave them both breathless. As Danny relaxed into her embrace, he made the decision that he wouldn't leave for London after all. It was probably the easiest decision he had ever made in his life. However, he knew deep down that sooner or later Connor would arrive, and then he would face the most difficult decision he had ever had.

 

-o-

 

 

Danny had almost forgotten that Molly's father was due home. He'd spent the last couple of days helping Davies to finish the repairs to the fence, and then they'd set about clearing away other debris left by the winter storms from the orchard. It was looking good now, and the trees were beginning to blossom ready to bear fruit in the Autumn. He was about to suggest to Davies that they should reward themselves with a beer in the village later when he turned and realised that Mr. Jacobs was watching them.

 

“Davies, would you excuse us for a while? I'd like to speak with Mr. Quinn.”

 

Davies nodded his head respectfully and strode off. Danny cleared his throat. “Welcome back, sir. Did you have a good trip to London?”

 

“It certainly gave me a few things to think about, but I can discuss that later. Molly has just told me what you did.”

 

Danny felt sick and froze to the spot. She'd told her father about Patrick?

 

“Don't look so worried,” Mr. Jacobs said. “You saved my daughter's life and I will be eternally grateful to you. I want to reward you in some way.”

 

Relieved, Danny smiled. “That's not necessary. I just did...”

 

Mr. Jacobs raised his hand to stop Danny from saying any more. “As you're aware, I lost my wife not that long ago. If I lost Molly too, my life would not be worth living. Saving her life deserves recognition of the highest order. Anything you want, name it and I'll see to it that you have it.”

 

Danny felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment and he shuffled from one foot to the other. He'd never been able to accept praise easily and he felt incredibly uncomfortable. “Sir, there isn't anything that I need right now. Just knowing Molly is safe is all the reward I need.”

 

Mr. Jacobs shook his head and then a smile spread across his face as a thought struck him. “Mr. Quinn... Danny... I would like to offer you my daughter's hand in marriage.”

 

Danny almost choked, then pulled himself together when he met with a confused look from Mr. Jacobs. “That's a very generous offer, but surely Molly should make her own decision about who she wants to marry?”

 

“You're right, of course, Mr. Quinn. I keep forgetting that women these days are independent. But what else can I offer you?” Mr. Jacobs looked thoughtful for a moment then he cleared his throat. “Does your job at the Home Office pay you well? Would you consider staying here instead of going back to your job? My meeting in London made me realise just how far behind the times I am and what I really need is someone with a good head on their shoulders to manage the estate properly before I end up having to sell everything to pay off my debts.”

 

“You already have that someone, sir,” Danny said. He could see Molly slowly approaching them, concerned about what her father could possibly be saying to Danny. When she was close enough to hear, Danny continued. “Your daughter would be more than capable of running this estate for you.”

 

“So let me get his straight, Mr. Quinn. You're turning down my offer of marrying my daughter and you're turning down my offer of being my estate manager?”

 

“Danny?” Molly looked from Danny to her father, and then back again. “Papa, may I speak with Danny alone for a few minutes?”

 

“Of course. I need to see what Mrs. Atkinson has planned for dinner tonight.” He nodded his head to Danny as he strode off, leaving Molly and Danny standing together, somewhat awkwardly.

 

After several long minutes, Molly finally broke the silence. “I understand your decision, Danny. You're not from this time, and sooner or later your friends will come and find you and take you back to where you belong. I wish it could be different though.”

 

“Do you want me to stay?”

 

“Do you want to stay?” Molly felt her cheeks burn and she looked away, afraid of what she might see in Danny's eyes.

 

“Maybe this is where I belong,” he said softly. “It's almost like I'm home anyway, just too early.”

 

“So will you take my father's offer seriously?”

 

“Which one?”

 

“Both of them.” Molly moved a step closer to Danny. “I have many ideas for this place, but changing people's attitudes and being taken seriously will be difficult. I think we could do this together, you and I.”

 

Danny pulled Molly into his embrace and pressed his lips against hers in a warm, tender kiss. Yes, he thought they could do this together too.

 

 

 

 

~*~*~*~*~

 

November 2012

 

Connor looked up from his computer as Matt entered the office. “This just arrived for you. Becker had it checked over by security.” He handed Connor an A4 sized courier pouch.

 

“What's this?”

 

“No idea, but it's addressed to you personally. It's a bit of a concern that someone outside knows you're here, which is why I had Becker take a look first.”

 

Connor carefully opened the pouch, almost not daring to look inside in case it exploded. Inside was an envelope, small and a little battered around the edges. It had clearly once been white, but age had turned it brown and it was so delicate that it almost fell apart in his hands. Matt moved closer, intrigued by what the envelope could possibly contain. Connor's name was handwritten on the front in black ink and Matt frowned as he examined it.

 

“Something doesn't look right,” he said. “From the look of the envelope, that's pretty old, but the writing style is modern. I would have expected it to be more elaborate, like Emily's handwriting.”

 

Connor nodded. He remembered watching Emily teach Jess how to write with a nib and pot of ink. Jess had found it difficult not to get ink everywhere, but Emily's page had looked perfect. This writing was definitely not like hers.

 

He carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of paper that was also brown with age. He realised it was a letter and unfolded it, glancing first at the date in the top right hand corner - 27th November 1915 – and then at the signature at the bottom. “It's from Danny Quinn!”

 

Matt moved closer still so that he could read and a look of concern spread across his face. “He's in 1915? Isn't that during the First World War?”

 

“Yes. At least now we know where he is, we can think about a rescue mission.” Connor began to read the letter to himself and then laughed out loud. “The old dog! He's only getting married!”

 

“Danny Quinn is getting married? In 1915?”

 

“Listen to this,” Connor went back to the beginning and read it out to Matt,

 

“ _I just wanted you to know that I am alive and well in the year 1915. I found myself at a place called Bestwicke Hall, not far from where I grew up, and was taken in by the lady of the house, Molly Jacobs. She saved me in more ways than you'll ever know, and we're engaged to be married once the war is over. It didn't seem appropriate to be planning such a celebration whilst the war is on, and since I've assured Molly that we'll only have to wait three years, she's happy. At the moment, she is completing her training as a nurse so that we can open the hall as a hospital for wounded soldiers returning from the frontline. It'll certainly keep us busy and no doubt time will fly by. I'm sure you'll be able to look us up and see what happens to us. That said, you may have gathered that I am settled here and making a new life for myself. There's no need for you to worry yourselves over trying to rescue me and you can close whatever case file you have open on me._

 

_Oh, and tell Matt that he doesn't need to worry about Patrick any more either. I dealt with him. His remains are somewhere in a forest in the late Pliocene era. Molly's helping me come to terms with what I had to do. Healing is going to take a long time, but I am already well on the way to recovery, thanks to Molly._

 

_Give my love to Abby, I hope you're going to make an honest woman of her soon. You two deserve some happiness after all you've been through. Make sure Soldier boy loosens up a bit and learns how to have some fun. Maybe he'll find someone to love too if he does. And Lester, well.. just let him know I'm okay._

 

_All my love, Danny Quinn.”_

 

Connor swallowed down the lump in his throat, then turned to his computer to search for Bestwicke Hall and its history. Matt pulled up a chair and joined him at his desk, curious to learn the eventual fate of a man he felt he knew yet had only briefly met.

 

The hall appeared to be a privately owned hotel, run by the current owner, David Quinn and his wife Lucy. David would be Danny's great grandson if Connor had calculated correctly. It looked like the hall had remained as a hospital and rehabilitation unit for wounded soldiers until the end of the war in 1918 when it became a private home again, home to the newly wedded Molly and Daniel Quinn.

 

“They had four children, two boys and two girls,” Matt commented, reading forward on the website that Connor had found. “And after most of the surrounding land was sold off to property developers, the hall was the family home until the late 1960s when Danny passed away and Molly moved out to live with their youngest daughter. The ownership of the hall passed to the eldest son who developed it to become the hotel it is today.”

 

“Good old Danny,” Connor said thoughtfully. “I'm glad things worked out okay for him. Seems you're not the only one that's found happiness in a time they shouldn't even be in.”

 

Matt smiled, knowing exactly what Connor meant. Everything about it was technically 'wrong', he shouldn't have settled in this time and neither should Emily, but they had, just as Danny shouldn't have settled in 1915. Sometimes following your heart is the only right thing to do. “I should go and let Lester know so that he can inform the minister, then I'll let Emily know that she's safe from Ethan now.”

 

Connor watched Matt leave the office and then shut down his computer. He folded Danny's letter carefully, placed it back inside the envelope and then into the courier pouch to protect it. He'd show it to Abby later, she'd been the most worried about what had happened to Danny after he left and he was pleased he could finally put her mind at rest. Then he'd follow Danny's advice and tackle the subject of setting a definite date for their wedding.

 


End file.
